Through the whistling winds,
they target and flow,
like a river without a bank,
to contain their woe.

From the sound that shakes the trees,
and makes them shiver beside the sea,
from the wind that lifts them high,
from the ground to the sky. These leaves that are shaven off, by the forceful winds,
that contain a wrath.

The shiver of trees is a symphony,
of something so invisible,
  but something so unique.